


On The Prowl

by CaitliNation



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Mates, So much violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-05 01:42:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4160835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaitliNation/pseuds/CaitliNation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's two years after the Alpha Pack blew through town and things have calmed down some. But when a new threat comes to Beacon Hills, Derek and Stiles go to investigate and along the way, secrets come out that Derek has been holding from Stiles for a long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of violence in this. Like A LOT. Sorry in advance. I hadn't realized how much there was until I was rereading it. If you're ultra sensitive, this fic probably isn't for you. But for those who are fine with a little gore, enjoy! Go to the end for notes about the "attempted rape tag" if it concerns you.

When Stiles comes home from school, there’s a note from his dad taped to the front door. He groans, snatching the piece of paper and crumpling it in his hand. It’s a Friday afternoon and he has a list of chores. He was plaining on getting his schoolwork over with, but it looks like he’ll have to do it tomorrow. And it also looks like he won’t be going to Lydia’s birthday party that for once he’s actually _invited to_.

They had actually become friends once Stiles had gotten over that little infatuation. Friends. It still sounds weird to him. Eighteen now and a senior in high school, and he’s still sadly single.  But being friends with Lydia is better than anything else they might’ve been.

Stiles grimaces as he flattens out the piece of paper, reading the long list of the things that he has to do. Well, maybe if he’s quick, he can still make it to the party. If he half-asses it. He’s good at half-assing things. So, he gets to work. Vacuuming, laundry, dishes, sweeping, mowing the lawn….

By the time he’s finished, it’s nearly nine o’clock and Lydia’s party doesn’t even start until ten. He might fistpump in triumph. Just a little. But he’s gross and sweaty from cleaning, so he takes a fast shower, putting on a clean t-shirt and a pair of jeans once he gets out. Grabbing Lydia’s gift that he had wrapped the day before- something small and simple this time- he makes his way downstairs. While he’s checking his hair in one of the mirrors he passes in the hallway, his doorbell rings.

Stiles frowns. He had told Scott that he wouldn’t need a ride. He wasn’t planning on drinking at the party. But, maybe his best friend had forgotten.

When he opens the door, ready to chew out Scott for being an idiot, his mouth is halfway open before his brows furrow in surprise.

“Derek?” he says.

The werewolf shuffles uncertainly in front of him. “Were you going somewhere?” Derek asks, eyeing the gift in Stiles’ hand.

“Um, yeah,” Stiles say, stepping aside. “Did you want to come in?”

Derek shakes his head.

“No, I actually was going to ask for your help with something. But if you’re busy, it’s no problem,” Derek says, already turning as if about to leave.

“Wait!” Stiles calls out, making the werewolf stop. “Is this about supernatural business?”

There hadn’t been much drama in Beacon Hills for a few of months now. A part of Stiles was grateful that he got to focus on his senior year untroubled. But another part of him was kind of… bored. He missed the excitement sometimes. Sure, Derek and Stiles still hang out, but they just do normal activities, like ordering way too much food and watching way to much crappy television. It sounds dull, but they have fun together when the alpha isn’t being a complete sourwolf.

But, yes. Some supernatural activity is much needed.

Derek eyes him warily before slowly nodding. Stiles looks down at Lydia’s gift. He can give it to her Monday. And no one would miss him much. Scott has Kira and Lydia needs no one. Besides a therapist. Lydia definitely needs a therapist after all she’s been through

“I can do this on my own. Really, it’s probably too dangerous for you anyway. I shouldn’t have asked,” Derek says, reading Stiles silence incorrectly. But, the comment has the human huffing indignantly.

“You think that just because I’m human I can’t take care of myself?” Stiles asks, tone annoyed.

“No! I just-” Derek starts.

“Well, tough news for your, buddy, but you came to _my_ house for help so I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.”

Stiles goes back inside to place Lydia’s gift on the coffee table and grab a jacket. It’s almost spring, but winter is still hanging around and it’s even colder when the sun sets.

Stiles brushes past Derek who is still waiting at the front door, expression blank.

“Are you coming or not?” Stiles questions, feigning irritation.

Derek waits a moment, as if oscillating on some internal issue before silently following Stiles to the Camaro.

“So, what’s going on?” Stiles asks once they’re seated inside. Derek starts the engine and begins to drive before responding.

“There are rogue werewolves living in my old house.”

“The Hale house?”

Derek nods.

“How do you know that they’re rogue?”

“Two weeks ago during the full moon, I had to kill one of them. He kept coming at me, crazed out of his mind until… until I was forced to put him down. I didn’t tell you because I thought it was just the one, but I caught the scent of others earlier today.” Derek explains, sounding morose.

“Are we going to kill the rest of them?”

The alpha purses his lips which Stiles pays way too much attention to. Derek is attractive. Sue him.

“I don’t know, yet. I need to find out if they’re worth saving or if they’re already too far gone.”

Stiles thinks it would be smarter to just get rid of the threat, but he sees where Derek is coming from. Derek doesn’t have a pack, which is something every alpha is entitled to. It must be lonely.

Stiles almost wants to tell him that he could be part of Derek’s pack, but bites the suggestion back. Why would Derek want him?

“So, are we going to just bust in there and hold an intervention?” the human asks after ten minutes of easy silence. Derek snorts. It catches Stiles off guard, and when he looks over, the werewolf’s lips are curved in a small smile.

“I only want to observe them today. I’m going to park about a block away and just listen to them. That means that I need you to stay quiet.” He throws a pointed look Stiles’ way. Stiles’ jaw drops. “You asked me to come with you knowing that silence was a requirement? Are you insane?”

“I can take you back home,” Derek says with an air of indifference.

Stiles folds his arms over his chest and grumbles, seeing Derek grin in his peripheral vision.

Soon enough, they get close to the Hale house and Derek gestures to Stiles that it’s Quiet Time. He takes the hint, pulling his phone out of his pocket to make sure that the ringer is off.

It’s strange, sitting in absolute silence with Derek not even three feet away from him. He’s very aware of everything. The soft breaths that the werewolf takes. The tension in his face and shoulders. Stiles starts playing games on his phone just to take his mind off of Derek and his overwhelming presence for a moment.

They sit like that for about a half an hour. Stiles fidgeting and sighing and playing with his phone. Derek looks at him every once in a while in warning when he gets too loud.

Stiles just rolls his eyes, telepathically bringing up the fact that _Derek_ was the one to ask him to come. The werewolf pretends not to understand him but Stiles knows that he does from the small quirk of his eyebrow.

Suddenly, Derek’s expression becomes grave, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Stiles wants to ask what’s wrong, but doesn’t know if Quiet Time is still going on.

 Apparently it’s not, Stiles decides, when Derek turns the key into the ignition and revs the engine. Tires squeal as the alpha speeds off down the road, Stiles’ pulse going a mile a minute.

“Derek?”

The werewolf doesn’t answer, completely focused on the road ahead.

“Derek!” Stiles shouts as a human shape materializes in front of them. Derek swerves to avoid the collision, consequently spinning out of control. Stiles feels Derek grab onto him, wrap his arms around him as if trying to shield him from something right before there’s a loud noise and everything goes black.

 

 

“Stiles? Stiles, you need to wake up. Stiles?” He slowly comes to, groaning and muttering words that his dad would arrest him for. Those words are warranted given the situation.

“Stiles?”

And who’s voice it that? It can’t be Derek’s, even though it sounds similar. This man’s voice sounds frantic, worried, concerned. If that _is_ Derek, then he must really be hallucinating because Derek’s voice ranges from bored to angry and nothing more.

Stiles tries to rub his aching temples, but his arms meet resistance. Looking up blearily, he tugs at his hands again and realizes that his wrists are chained to the stone wall behind him.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me! This is like the most cliché thing _ever,_ ” he groans in disbelief.

Derek sighs with what sounds like relief mixed with annoyance.

“Every werewolf household has the chains for the full moons until the children learn to find an anchor. None of us ever had to use them because our anchor was family. If the rogues only had been using the chains when necessary, we wouldn’t be in this situation,” Stiles hears Derek mutter angrily.

It’s cold enough that Stiles is just on the verge of shivering. He’s seated on hard concrete with his back against the wall. The lighting is too dim for him to make out any details, but he’s able to see Derek’s figure on the opposite side of the room, tied to the other wall about twenty-five feet away.

The only difference between their situations is that Derek’s hands are bound with thicker, stronger looking metal. There’s also what looks like a boundary of mountain ash that begins at the wall and circles around Derek before ending on the other side of him as it meets the wall again.

Even that much observation is too much for his pain-filled mind right now.

“I should’ve went to the party,” Stiles grumbles. Something warm and wet is trickling down his face, pooling into the collar of his shirt. He can feel the fabric crusted and soaked with both old and fresh blood.

“Where are we? How long was I out?” he asks.

“In the Hale basement. And I don’t know. Maybe an hour or two?”

“This is a lot of blood,” Stiles says.

After a moment of silence, the werewolf says, “I know it is.” And his voice raw with something Stiles decides to think about at a later time.

Stiles groans again, shutting his eyes and hoping to just slip away from the world for a few minutes. Maybe forever.

“Stiles, I need you to stay with me. Keep your eyes open, okay?” Derek says, speaking to the human like he’s a wounded animal. He kind of is. Stiles snorts, lids still shut.

“I’m not dying, asshole.”

Derek barks out a miserable laugh. “Your heart rate is lower than usual because of all the blood you’ve lost. Excuse me if I’m a little concerned.”

“Why are you, again? You’re the one who dragged me into this mess.” It’s his normal banter. He doesn’t really mean anything by it, but Derek seems to take what he says to heart.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. You’re right, though. It was stupid of me to involve you.”

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Stiles scoffs, opening his eyes to stare at the werewolf’s outline.

“I didn’t mean it like… I’m sorry, okay?” Derek says, sounding downright depressed.

“Wow. You must’ve hit your head harder than I did.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“I keep forgetting how young you are. I treat you like an adult when I shouldn’t. God, you’re still in high school.”

“I’m eighteen. I _am_ an adult. This is a great apology, by the way. Pointing out how inexperienced and useless I am.”

“ _What I’m trying to say is_ ,” Derek starts. “You shouldn’t have to be involved in this, and I shouldn’t’ve asked you to come with me.”

Stiles finally takes pity on the alpha. “Okay, that’s slightly better. But, don’t beat yourself up too badly over it. I wouldn’t have come with you if I didn’t want to. You didn’t force me into this.”

Stiles can still feel waves of self-hate radiating from Derek and releases a long sigh.

“Seriously, don’t blame yourself.”

“I was just being selfish. But, Erica and Boyd are both dead. Isaac left and Scott wants nothing to do with me. I just- I needed someone. Anyone.”  His voice is soft and broken, pulling at something in Stiles’ chest.

Stiles tries to imagine it. Having his entire family murdered by a psychotic girlfriend, and then building a new family only to have them torn from him too. Derek has _no one_. Except Peter who doesn’t really count because he’s certifiably insane.

“We’re going to get out of here, Derek. We’ve been in worse situations.”

He sees Derek nod, but the man doesn’t speak. Stiles closes his eyes again, exhausted. All he wants to do is sleep and Derek just _won’t let him_.

“Keep your eyes open.”

“I’m tired,” Stiles whines, eyelids remaining shut.

“Talk to me,” Derek says, voice tight with anxiety. The human harrumphs. “Just to ease my mind. Please.”

And that makes Stiles finally open his eyes and keep them open. Wide open. “Did you just…? I didn’t think that word was even in your vocabulary.”

“If I let anything happen to you, your dad will shoot me. It probably won’t be lethal, but still. Better safe than sorry.” He sees a flash of white as Derek smiles, just for the barest millisecond.

“Well, I’ve got tough news for you, buddy, but something _has_ already happened to me. We’ve been kidnapped by rogue werewolves. I’m chained to a freaking _wall_ ,” Stiles exclaims, letting himself smile along with Derek for a moment before becoming serious.

“Have you seen them?” he asks quietly.

“No. We hit a tree and I tried to shield you from most of the blow. But still, we both got knocked out. When I woke up, we were already tied up and you were still unconscious. I was calling your name for ten minutes before you came to,” the alpha says, sounding concerned and worried again.

“I’m fine, Derek.” If tied to a wall in a basement constituted as fine.

“Even so, I would feel better if you stayed awake and talked to me. About anything. Just don’t go to sleep.”

“Okay,” Stiles relents with another sigh. So he stays awake and talks about his dad, school, Scott, Lydia. Everything. Derek doesn’t say a word, but he grunts or hums every time Stiles pauses. The human is somewhat inclined to make a caveman joke, but thinks better of it. And when he goes too long without speaking and begins to drift off, Derek always pulls him back.

It’s a couple hours later when Stiles sees Derek’s head snap up, eyes flaring bright red in the gloom. Stiles suddenly stiffens as he too becomes alert.

“What is it?” he asks, eyeing the only door cautiously. His suspicions are confirmed when Derek answers.

“They’re coming. The rogues. Don’t say a word to them, Stiles, I’m serious.”

The human nods, and wants to pantomime zipping his lips shut and throwing away the key before remembering that his hands are kind of bound in freaking _chains_. So, he just gives Derek a weak smile instead.

A moment later, Stiles hears multiple footsteps sounding like they’re coming own a flight of stairs. And then, there’s the noise of locks turning before the door opens on the left side of the room. Three werewolves walk in, all dressed in dirty, worn clothing that’s more holes than actual cloth. Claws and teeth are extended. A trio of eyes glow an electric blue.

One of the weres, obviously the leader of the rogue pack, steps to the front, the other two flanking on either side of him. The three pay Stiles no mind, focusing on Derek instead.

The leader, the one with shoulder-length, blond, oily, hair, curls his lips in a predatory smile. Derek’s eyes glow an even brighter red as the werewolves shuffle closer.

“Well, look what we caught sniffing around our territory. An alpha,” the blond says, eyeing up Derek who snarls softly, teeth elongating as he begins to shift, yanking uselessly on his bonds. The leader smirks, like he’s amused at his prisoner’s futile attempts. Stiles is offended on Derek’s behalf. How dare these new werewolves appear from God knows where and claim Derek’s old home as theirs? He has the urge to speak but thinks better of it.

Stiles isn’t used to seeing Derek completely defenseless. It’s terrifying, knowing that they could do _anything_ to the him and Derek wouldn’t be able to fight back. Stiles is scared for him, which is something that he’d never thought he would ever have to be. Derek can usually take care of himself just fine. Usually.

“So, _alpha_. What’s your name?” the blond asks. Derek glares up in silence. It’s one of his frightening oh-shit-death-glares that he reserves for those who he despises the most. Stiles hasn’t gotten that look in a while, now that he thinks about it, and he’s grateful that he’s not on the receiving end of this one. If he were, he would already be kneeling down in submission.

As it is, the leader only freezes for half of a second before shaking his head and regaining his composure, stalking to Derek until he’s just outside the circle of mountain ash.

“I’m sorry, I seem to have forgotten my manners. We introduce ourselves first.  My name is Michael. This is Kevin and Brandon,” he says, gesturing to the brunette and redhead flanking him respectively.  “Now, let’s try this again. _What’s your name?_ ”

Derek still remains quiet, nostrils flaring in anger.

Michael turns to look at his cronies and shrug his shoulders, eyebrows raised as if to ask “what can you do?”

“Well, we tried being nice,” he says, holding out a hand to the redhead- Brandon if Stiles remembers correctly. Brandon, who reaches into his worn, threadbare jacket and pulls out a long, sharp blade that glimmers even in the dim lighting.

Stiles’ heart jumps into his throat at the sight of it, and it takes everything he has not to say anything. He actually opens his mouth, but Derek quickly turns to him, fixing that glare on him and shaking his head imperceptibly. Stiles promptly seals his lips, even as his stomach clenches when the blade catches his gaze again.

Michael squats down, breaking the circle of mountain ash with the knife in his grasp. The two werewolves are now at eyelevel.

“I think it’s about time that we get a little more… violent.” And then, swiftly and without warning, he plunges the knife into Derek’s thigh. Stiles gasps, heartbeat going wild as Derek flinches in pain and lets out a low whine. Hearing Derek hurt is not a pleasant thing for him. It’s actually heart wrenching, so much so that he cringes at the sight and sound of it.

Stiles bites hard on his bottom lip to keep himself from gasping out loudly, tasting his blood on his tongue.

When the knife is pulled out, Derek’s wound closes in about ten seconds and Stiles breathes a sigh of relief. And then, Michael takes the knife and sinks it back into Derek’s leg, this time in a different spot.

The teenager grinds his teeth when the alpha lets out the softest of whimpers, almost _feeling_ Derek’s pain too.

Michael draws the blade out again, but the human remains tenses, having a feeling that it isn’t over. Not yet.

He’s right. For once, he hates being right.

The weapon comes down again, over and over, making sick, slick noises as it punctures Derek’s skin repeatedly.  Between every few jabs, Michael repeats his question, but Derek still sits there in silence, just taking it. His whines tamper down into small groans.

Stiles thinks it would almost be better if Derek were to yell. Scream. Curse. But no, he just releases these soft sounds full of agony.

This is one of the few times that Stiles sees an advantage to being human. As a werewolf, torture can last indefinitely.  And it does. At least, it feels like it does. But in reality, the knifing lasts no more than maybe ten excruciating minutes.

Finally, Michael seems to tire of the charade. He straightens from his crouch, no longer smiling.

Stiles knows he’s being too loud, making these choked breathing noises, but he can’t make himself stop, even after Derek gives him a weak “shut up” glare diluted with agony.

It’s only when Michael slowly swivels his head, turning his attention towards the human, that Stiles clenches his jaw, willing himself to keep quiet. But, it’s already too late for that.

“No!” Derek roars as Michael begins to take a step towards Stiles. Michael turns back to face the alpha, expression calculating.

“Oh, now you want to talk? I guess now we know what will get you to open your mouth.” Michael quickly turns back in Stiles direction, striding towards him and gripping a handful of his hair, yanking it back so that the human’s neck is exposed. Stiles sorely regrets growing his hair out as he hears Derek shouting in the background, much louder than he had been when he was the one with a knife in his leg.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Stiles thinks of how backwards that is. Now. Well, now he has more pressing thoughts on his mind. Like the knife that’s now being pushed against his throat.

Derek’s yelling seems very far away as all of Stiles’ focus turns to the warm blade, wet with the alpha’s blood, and the pressure as Michael presses It deeper into his skin.

The leader leans down, breath hot against Stiles’ ear as he says, “I would tell you that I’m sorry for this, but I’m really not. It has to be done to get your little werewolf buddy to talk, and honestly you mean nothing to me anyway.”

Stiles feels sick with anxiety and tries not to swallow, knowing that if he does the blade will only dig into his skin more. Derek is still pitching a fit in the background, an endless cacophony of curses and growls as he yanks uselessly on the chains.

Michael rolls his eyes and stands up, looking at Kevin, the one with the light brown hair. “Seal that circle of mountain ash again. Just to be sure,” he orders before focusing back on Stiles who attempts to shrink away. The hand still in his hair makes it impossible, but he tries, even as tears start welling up as the pain in his scalp flares.

Kevin walks over to Derek and nudges the mountain ash with the toe of his boot, effectively reclosing the circle.

As the blade presses against Stiles neck again, digging in, Derek finally begins to string a sentence together, voice desperate and strained.

“Derek! My name is Derek.”

Out of his peripheral vision, Stiles sees Michael grin in triumph before he runs the blade across the human’s throat, making him wince and hiss as a shallow cut is made. Stiles feels a sting, the trickle of blood making its way down his neck.

Michael straightens, releasing Stiles hair.

“You’ll learn soon enough that things are so much easier when you do what I want,” the blond says, handing the blade back to Brandon who puts it back in his jacket without even wiping the blood off.

“We’ll see you two later.”

With that, the three turn around and walk back out the door, shutting it behind them. Stiles hears the locks clicking back in place. When he turns to the werewolf, he sees Derek already looking at him, face pale and pinched, concern etched in his features.

“Stiles-” he starts, voice breaking.

“I’m fine,” he says, knowing Derek won’t believe him. Hell, he doesn’t believe himself. But, maybe if he says it enough, he might begin to. “Really, I’m fine. Don’t tell them anything else, even if they threaten to hurt me. We don’t know what they want.”

“I can’t promise anything,” Derek says quietly.

Stiles sighs, banging his head against the stone wall before cringing. Yeah, not a good idea. He had forgotten his head was still injured and the throbbing only intensified once he does remember.

“We need to get out of here.”

“No shit.”

The human made an affronted sound. “Someone’s cranky.”

“Stiles, they _hurt_ you.”

“Are you kidding me? You were the one who was stabbed like a hundred times.”

“I heal faster than you. If they decide to do something serious to get information, Stiles… they could _kill_ you.”

Stiles scoffs. “Don’t worry about me.”

“You have family, friends, people that will miss you. I have no one. No one will care if I die. You’re getting out of here alive,” Derek says vehemently.

“If you died, I would care. _We’re_ getting out of here alive. _Together_ , Derek.”

The werewolf nods slowly, staring at Stiles with an odd expression on his face. One that Stiles isn’t familiar with.

“What?” Stiles finally asks.

Derek says nothing.

 

 

Derek doesn’t let Stiles sleep, even when the teenager runs out things to say. Finally, Derek begins talking, looking uncomfortable at first, like he isn’t used to saying so many words at once. Or, maybe he just isn’t used to talking about himself. About his family.

Derek tells Stiles about Laura. About the horrible pranks she used to play on him, but also about how fiercely protective she was. She punched a fourth grader for making fun of Derek’s eyebrows once.

“It was awesome. The kid avoided me for years afterwards.”

The alpha also reminisces about Peter, his uncle, before the Hale fire destroyed the man he once was. He even speaks about his parents. There’s raw pain in his voice, but also love and nostalgia. Stiles can’t bear to go to sleep now that Derek has finally begun to open up. It’s amazing.

Stiles finds himself faintly smiling, even in this horrible situation that they’re in. But of course, there always has to be something to ruin the moment.

Derek probably doesn’t even hear him approaching, too caught up in his story telling.

The werewolf freezes, mouth halfway open as Kevin steps into the room.

“So, he does say more than two words at a time,” the brown haired man chortles. But, unlike last time, he barely spares Derek a glance, instead looking at Stiles in this hungry, sleazy way that makes him want to shudder.

Derek suddenly stiffens as he tilts his head, nostrils flaring. There’s no anger in his eyes at first. Only surprise that quickly shifts to horror.  And then there’s the anger.

“Don’t touch him!” Derek snarls, immediately beginning to shift as he pulls at chains. But, then he seems to remember that even if he does manage to break the chains, there’s still the line of mountain ash to get through.

The alpha turns to Stiles, looking lost and helpless.

Stiles stares back at Derek in confusion as Kevin stalks towards him, licking his lips in an incredibly cliché villain way that has Stiles on the verge of a laugh. But, as the rogue reaches for the zipper of his jeans, the human’s heart stutters with fear and revulsion. He finally _gets_ it.

Derek had been smelling Kevin’s _arousal_.

And Stiles is vulnerable and powerlessly tied to a wall. He leans away as Kevin reaches towards him, but no matter how far he strains, the werewolf is still able to clutch his chin, claws digging in until the skin breaks and makes Stiles inhale sharply with pain.

“Stiles! Stiles!” Derek calls desperately from across the room until Stiles meets the alpha’s eyes. “It’s okay. He’s not going to touch you. Don’t look at him, alright? Look at me. He’s not going to touch you. I won’t let him.”

The words are meaningless drabble. Lies to make him feel better about his situation. But, it works, Stiles feels himself calming down as he stares into Derek’s eyes. That is, until Kevin steps in his line of vision, effectively cutting off whatever eye contact Stiles and Derek had.

Kevin’s crotch is now in front of his face, and he leans away as the werewolf pulls the zipper down and reaches his hand in his pants.

Stiles can hear Derek shouting his name and spouting threats as Kevin begins to slowly jerk himself off, dick still thankfully in his pants. There are small miracles.

“You touch him and I swear to God, I will kill all of you,” Derek growls. Kevin snorts, hand releasing Stiles’ chin as he turns around.

“You seem a little preoccupied right now, but I don’t mind if you watch. I like an audience,” the rogue says, turning back to Stiles and giving him a cold smile.

The howl Derek gives then is bloodcurdling, making Stiles want to cover his ears, but that’s kind of impossible seeing as his hands are pretty much useless at the moment. Kevin actually _does_ cover his ears, flinching back and stepping away from Stiles.

Derek’s head is thrown back as if he’s in anguish, eyes glowing red and fangs extended. When the howl finally cuts off, an incredulous look is on Kevin’s face.

“He belongs to you, doesn’t he?” Kevin asks, stepping towards the alpha. “He isn’t just a human. He’s your _mate_.”

Stiles tenses, staring at Derek, seeking the eye contact that Derek is now trying to avoid. Mate? What the hell is Kevin talking about? Stiles knows what a mate is, Scott having spoken to him about it on occasion, and that is _not_ what he and Derek are. They barely even like each other.

Except that’s not really true.

After Derek had lost his second pack, they had begun seeing each other more and more. Stiles had known that Derek needed someone, just for the company. And Stiles had been more than willing. He needed someone too, Scott often ditching him for Kira. It was okay. He understood that his best friend was in love. But, it had gotten lonely. He began hanging out with Derek every now and then and they had become something like friends. Okay, they’re friends. But, mates?

Yes, Derek is attractive, but Stiles had never thought the werewolf would notice him in _that_ way. The thought had actually never even occurred to him. So he had filed that crush under Forget About It.

But, there has to be some truth to what Kevin’s said because Derek is still not looking at him.

Kevin grasps Stiles chin again, ready to get the show on the road after causally dropping that bomb.

“This is _great_. Just wait until I tell Michael that we caught an alpha _and_ his mate. But, _Derek_. Something’s wrong here,” Kevin says, looking between the two. Derek glares at him, at the hand on Stiles’ chin. There’s murder in the alpha’s eyes. “The boy doesn’t smell like you. You know, maybe if you would’ve staked a claim, I might’ve been less inclined to take him myself.”

Derek begins snarling loudly, fangs bared.

“I guess we all make mistakes,” Kevin finishes, tilting Stiles’ face up.

“If you put anything in my mouth, I’m going to bite it off,” Stiles states, speaking for the first time. He tries to sound threatening, but his voice shakes.

The rogue werewolf laughs harshly, making Stiles to flinch back.

“You like the feisty ones, I’m guessing?” he asks over his shoulder.

Derek makes a harsh, choked noise.

Without preamble, Kevin surges forward, shoving his face into Stiles’ in a bruising imitation of a kiss. Stiles wants to vomit as he feels Kevin’s tongue force its way into his mouth, hears Derek howling again in the background.

Steeling his resolve, once Kevin’s tongue worms its way between his lips, Stiles bites down with all he’s got, feeling skin break and blood pool hot and putrid in his mouth. Kevin rears back, and before Stiles can react, there’s a hand coming towards his face with long, sharp claws.

He has just enough time to close his eyes before searing pain makes his vision go white as fingers rake across his face, leaving deep gashes.

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, his voice rough and raw.

In that moment, the door burst open and Michael strides in, expression livid.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Kevin laughs, blood and saliva pooling from his mouth sickeningly. “Just havin’ a little fun.”

Before anyone can blink, Michael has one hand around Kevin’s throat.

“I told you to leave them alone until the next full moon. Then we can get rid of them. Don’t disobey me again. Do you remember what happened to the last werewolf that went again my authority?” his voice is soft and dangerous and Stiles never wants to know what happened to that unlucky little minion.

Kevin visibly pales and nods his head furiously.

“Go upstairs and don’t come back down until I say so.”

The rogue nods and quickly exits the room.

Derek is still thrashing against his chains, looking broken and on the verge of actual tears. _Tears._ For _Stiles_.

Hell is definitely freezing over.

“Calm down. Your human is fine,” Michael sneers before he walks out of the room too.


	2. Chapter 2

Once they’re alone, Stiles promptly leans over and throws up, not able to get the taste of Kevin’s mouth and blood off his tongue. Even after all of his food is gone from the dinner that seems like it was an eternity ago, he still can’t stop dry heaving which soon turns into hyperventilating. Stiles starts to shake, his own pulse rapid in his ears.   
The five gashes across his face are dripping with blood, staining his shirt and the concrete below him.   
“Stiles. Stiles, I’m so sorry.” Derek’s words are barely distinguishable over the human’s loud breathing and racing heartbeat.   
“I can’t… I can’t breathe, Derek.”  
“Stiles?”  
“I think I’m having… a panic attack.” He hasn’t had one in a while, but if anything qualifies as a trigger, what had just happened definitely does.   
“I’m here, okay. God, I wish I could touch you. Comfort you. Anything. Just- just listen to my voice if it helps. Oh my God, Stiles, I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”  
Stiles does though. He had watched Derek get stabbed repeatedly. He knows how hard it is to watch someone that you care about suffer.   
But, his voice. Derek’s telling Stiles to concentrate on his voice. He can do that.  
“Can you… can you talk… again.”  
There’s a brief pause as Derek lets out a shuddering breath. “Yeah, Stiles. Anything you need.”  
Derek launches back into one of his family stories, picking up right where he had left of before Kevin had interrupted.   
It takes about half an hour before Stiles’ breathing evens out, and Derek trails off once the human’s pulse stabilizes.  
“Are you okay?” Stiles finally asks, remembering Derek’s desperate howling that had sounded so wrecked and heartbreaking. The werewolf gives a soft snort and sighs forlornly.   
“I think I should be the one asking you that.”  
“Then why haven’t you?” Stiles asks with a hint of hysterical laughter that cuts off as abruptly as it begins.  
“It would be a stupid question because I already know the answer. You’re not okay. No one would be okay after that.”  
Stiles is so grateful that he’s not going to be forced to say that he’s fine. Because he would lie and say that he is, even if he isn’t just to spare Derek else pain.  
But, Derek has always understood him without anything needing to be said. Because they’re friends. Apparently more than friends, actually.  
“We’ll talk about it later,” the alpha says softly, already knowing where Stile’s thoughts are steering. He should also know that Stiles isn’t just going to let it go that quickly.  
“What did Kevin mean about us being mates? This is the first that I’ve heard of it, Derek. I mean, wouldn’t I be aware if I was someone’s mate or not?” he asks.   
Derek is silent, face blank, before something in him seems to crack after a moment. He looks at Stiles, expression beseeching.   
“Stiles, I’ve imagined having this conversation a thousand different ways, a thousand different times. I don’t want to have it like this.”  
The human frowns.  
“I think you owe it to me. We’ve known each other for years. You should be able to tell me anything by now.”  
“You’re right. And I should’ve spoken to you before about this. But, I can’t do it now, not here. Later, okay? Not now.”  
Stiles licks his dry lips, before biting down on the bottom one. Derek seems to trace the movement before looking back into Stiles’ eyes.   
“What if this is it, Der? What if we don’t get another opportunity to talk about it?”   
The alpha’s expression softens at the nickname that Stiles rarely uses, but his eyes remain determined.  
“Then it wouldn’t have mattered much anyway, right?”

 

It’s a few hours or so later when the door opens again. Derek and Stiles haven’t spoken in a while, but Stiles is way to on guard to sleep now. He doesn’t need anything to keep him awake now.  
The three rogue werewolves walk in again, and Stiles’ skin crawls when he sees Kevin, but the man doesn’t look at him. He stares at the ground.  
Stiles notices that there’s dried blood on his shirt, but the wound inflicted must’ve already healed. The human is both satisfied and enraged. Happy that at least Kevin had been punished, but angry at the fact that he probably wasn’t in pain very long. Stiles’ face throbs as he remembers the claw marks.  
“It’s come to my attention that the human is of more importance to you than we initially thought,” Michael starts, looking at Derek and then turning to appraise Stiles. “This changes things.”  
The leader pauses, as if expecting one of them to ask him exactly what this changes, but of course neither of them so much as opens their mouths. Michael sighs as if slightly disappointed.   
“This means that we have leverage on you, Derek. Because now I know that you will do anything to protect the human.”   
The alpha’s jaw clenches as his eyes glow red and Michael walks over to him.   
“So tell me, did you have anything to do with the disappearance of one of my werewolves?” the leader asks. He holds his hand out to Brandon who takes the knife out of his jacket, now encrusted with dried blood, and gives it to Michael.   
Derek remains silent right up until the point when Michael starts to make a move towards Stiles, a dangerous gleam in his eyes.  
“Yes! I did,” Derek punches out, looking at the knife warily before glancing at Stiles.  
Michael grins, pleased that his plan seems to be working.   
“What happened to him?”   
“I- I killed him.”  
“Why?”  
“I found him on the night of the full moon. He was fighting me. I tried to stop him, calm him, talk some sense into him, but he wasn’t listening. It was me or him. I chose me.”  
Michael narrows his eyes but shrugs, acknowledging the point.   
“Kyle always was too impulsive for his own good. I can’t say I’m sad to see him gone.”  
Kevin makes a soft noise behind Michael that causes the blond man to turn around.   
“Do you have something to say?”  
“No, sir.”  
“Good. Now, Derek,” he says, turning back to the alpha. “Where’s your pack? Why haven’t they come for you already?”  
Apparently for Michael, it takes a second too long for Derek to answer because he’s over by Stiles in a flash, knife already at the human’s neck.   
“Where. Is. Your. Pack?” he asks, words slow and precise.  
“I don’t have one! Stiles- Stiles is all I have left.”  
“Stiles?” Michael questions, cocking his head before he nods his head in understanding. “Ah, the human boy.”  
Derek purses his lips, looking angry at himself. Presumably mad that he let the name slip out. Stiles is more focused what the alpha had said.   
Stiles is all I have left.   
Derek considers Stiles as pack.   
And Stiles is part of Derek’s pack. He realizes it now. He’s been pack all along. The thought makes him both happy and infinitely sad because Derek could have so much more. It doesn’t just have to be the two of them. His dad could be pack. Scott might be able to warm up to the idea. Kira too. Scott’s mom. Lydia.  
Derek doesn’t have to feel alone. He’s not alone. He needs to know that. Stiles needs to let Derek know that just in case something happens to him. If he dies in this basement, he needs Derek to know.   
“You’re not alone, Derek,” Stiles croaks. “And I’m not just talking about me.”  
Michael takes a handful of the human’s hair and yanks his head back.   
“I didn’t give you permission to speak,” he hisses in Stiles’ ear, the blade of the knife pressing in deeper. Hard enough to make Stiles cry out.   
“Stiles!” Derek yells.   
But he needs to get the words out, needs Derek to hear him.  
“You’re not alone,” he whispers as the knife digs in harder. He thinks that this might be when he dies. In this house where almost all of Derek’s family burned alive.   
It would be poetic if the thought of Derek losing yet another person wasn’t enough to reduce Stiles to tears. And he needs Derek to understand because if he dies, Derek can’t be by himself for the rest of his life.   
“You’re not alone. Derek, you aren’t alone.”  
Finally, Derek nods, still looking confused.   
“Okay. I’m not alone,” Derek says in agreement and even if he’s just doing it to placate Stiles, it’s enough.  
Michael glances between them in disgust.   
“Well, it looks like we’ve gotten all the information we need. I’m sorry to say that your human isn’t important to us anymore.”  
And then Derek is shouting Stiles’ name as Michael draws the knife back, preparing to stab it in his heart presumably, or somewhere else that’s equally fatal.  
The only thing Stiles is able to think of is that they never even got to have their talk, and now, they never will.   
That’s when true mayhem breaks out because suddenly the room explodes with gunfire and shouts and Michael, Kevin, and Brandon are on the ground. Bullet wounds in their heads.   
Stiles slowly looks up to see his dad standing there, Scott next to him.   
It would be an epic moment if this was a movie, but this isn’t a movie. This is life, and he almost just died.   
“Stiles!” Scott lunges forward, staring wide-eyed at his best friend when he sees all of the injuries. His neck, his face, his head. Stiles thinks that it, but he can’t be sure.  
The sheriff’s face is murderous as he scans the room, taking everything in.   
“This needs a key to unlock it,” Scott says after a moment of examination. Stiles’ dad kneels down by Michaels body that’s just inches away from where the Stiles is sitting. The blood pooling from the rogue werewolf’s head puddles, soaking into Stiles’ jeans.   
The sheriff riffles through Michael’s pockets until he finds two keys, handing both to Scott to try. After some finagling, the chains come lose and Stiles groans, his stiff arms protesting as gravity brings them down.  
“Son? Can you stand up?”  
Stiles waves the helping hand away. “Derek. Get Derek.”  
Scott walks over to alpha and lets him free too after breaking the circle of mountain ash with his shoe.   
Derek is on his feet and by Stiles’ side in a second. Touching his face, his neck, his shoulder, as if trying to reassure himself that Stiles is okay. But, it’s more than that. Suddenly pain flares up where his injuries are, but that’s quickly eclipsed by a cooling, tingling sensation. Scott gasps audibly.  
“What the hell?”  
Stiles reaches up to touch his cheek, the agony that he had felt in his arms suddenly gone. There’s still left over blood, but the wounds are closed. More than closed. They’re gone.  
“Derek?” Stiles says, looking up at the alpha in confusion. Werewolves can take pain away, but they can’t heal people. Derek seems to sway for a moment, looking exhausted before he rights himself and holds out a hand to help Stiles up.  
“That’s impossible,” Scott exclaims, looking incredulous.   
“It’s an alpha thing,” Derek responds, shrugging and looking away. And they all know he’s lying. It’s obvious. But no one calls him on it because he literally looks as if he’s going to pass out on his feet.  
Which is why Stiles begins protesting when Derek begins to lift him up until he’s carrying Stiles in his arms.  
“No, I’m fine. You did your werewolf mojo.”  
“You’re still weak,” Derek replies, gripping him tighter, like he knows Stiles is planning on squirming out of his hold.  
“You’re the weak one. And you didn’t have to heal me, Derek. I would’ve been fine.”  
The werewolf growls softly. “Don’t fight me on this. Please. I just need…”  
Stiles bites his bottom lip before sighing and tentatively leaning into Derek, listening to him exhale in relief as Stiles stops struggling.   
When he looks away from Derek, Scott and his dad are staring at the pair, identical expression of disbelief. The sheriff finally shakes his head.   
“Ask questions later, get out of here now,” he says, turning and gesturing for everyone to follow him. Leaving the basement, Stiles looks around and recognizes the familiar, depressing, burnt out husk that is the Hale house.  
“You should have this place torn down,” Stiles says, mind catching up with him a second later. “I mean, I know that this house holds memories for you and all but-”  
“You’re right,” Derek starts, cutting him off. “I think I should’ve done it a while ago.”   
They both inhale deeply once they’re outside. It’s sunny. Something that they hadn’t been able to see in the dark basement with no windows. It feels like they’ve been in that room for a month when it’s only been…  
“What day is it?” Stiles asks no one in particular.  
“Saturday. It’s the afternoon,” Scott pipes up. “After Lydia’s party, I called you but you didn’t answer so I just assumed that you were already asleep or something. And then this morning, your dad called me asking if you had slept over my house. He sounded really worried when I told him that you hadn’t.”  
Stiles glances at his father, taking in the drawn, exhausted features and dark shadows under his eyes. He remembers shutting his ringer off Friday night. The phone is still in his pocket, but he had been unable to get to it with his hands tied up. It had been virtually useless.   
“How did you find us?” Stiles asks after a moment. Scott’s the one who answers again.  
“We drove around Beacon Hills and found Derek’s car. Dude, I’m sorry about your Camaro, but it’s kind of a goner now. And right after that, we heard this howl.” His best friend pauses as he looks at Derek, expression curious and scrutinizing. Stiles’ hands tighten in the collar of the alpha’s leather jacket, remembering that mournful, miserable sound Derek had made when Kevin…  
“Okay, that’s enough chatter,” his dad says, interrupting the conversation once they reach the cruiser. “Now, I know that Derek… healed you,” he begins, looking uncomfortable. “But, I still would feel better if you went to the hospital. Just to make sure.”  
“No! What are we going to tell them?” Stiles objects. “That I was kidnapped by rogue werewolves?”  
“We could say that there was a hiking incident. That you were attacked by wolves. It wouldn’t be far from the truth.”  
“There aren’t any wolves in California,” Scott reminds him.  
“I just need rest. Can I just go home? Please?”  
The sheriff looks thoughtful before reluctantly nodding. “But I want Melissa to check on you.”  
“Okay,” Stiles relents. He’s good at compromising. Okay, not really. But he is too tired to argue at the moment. Derek sets him down on his feet seemingly unwillingly before taking a step back. Stiles feels cold without the contact, without the warmth.   
“Wait. I have a question,” Scott states, ignoring the sheriffs warning look. “What did the rogues want with you? What were they planning?”  
Stiles turns to look at Derek, because even he doesn’t have the answers to that. The alpha is avoiding his eye contact, staring at the ground. After a brief silence, Derek looks up at Scott, face devoid of any emotion.   
“I think it was less about Stiles and more about me,” he finally says, speaking for only the second time since the rescue. “I have a feeling that they’re leader, Michael, was planning on killing me to become an alpha. But, he was waiting for the full moon, I think. He probably wasn’t born a werewolf since no one had told him that he could’ve become an alpha by killing me any night. He just didn’t know it.”  
“Thank God for naivety,” Stiles mutters. Scott and his father both crack small smiles. Derek doesn’t.   
“Stiles was just at the wrong place at the wrong time,” Derek finishes, voice cold and empty. “Thanks for saving us, sir,” the alpha says to the sheriff. “I’m sorry for putting your son in danger.”   
Derek still refuses to look at Stiles which has the him feeling worried. What did he do, now?  
“I got him back safe. Everything is fine now,” his dad answers.   
Except it’s not. Not really. Stiles knows that what happened in that basement will stick in his mind for a long time. The alpha doesn’t look convinced either as he slowly nods and begins to turn away.   
“Wait! Derek, we can give you a ride back to your apartment. Right, Dad?”  
Derek had finally bought an apartment with the money left over from his inheritance after suffering through Stiles’ endless badgering. It was pleasant too. Indoor plumbing. An actual bedroom. Television and cable.   
He had been over the few times when he hadn’t felt like being cooped up in his room. It had been nice, just watching T.V. on Derek’s couch and pigging out on pizza. Now that he thinks about it, he could probably use that right about now. Especially the pizza because he suddenly realizes how hungry he is.   
But, a shower was definitely needed first.   
“I can come to your apartment with you. We could get something to eat,” Stiles suggests. His dad looks like he’s ready to protest, but he doesn’t have to. Derek is already shaking his head vehemently, backing away from him. And okay, that kind of hurts. Slightly. Just a little bit.   
“Go home, Stiles.”  
His brows furrow together, but he decides not to push it. “Fine. But that offer for the ride is still open. So, get in the car.”  
“I’d rather just run back to my place. Fresh air and…” Derek shrugs as he trails off, looking at the line of trees off to the side.   
Stiles gives him a stoic look. “You’re still weak. I know healing yourself takes energy and you’ve had to do that a lot. You also healed me. You’re getting in the car, Der.” He sets his hands on his hips and glares.  
Derek sighs, looking resigned to his fate as he nods. And despite all of his resistance, he sits close to Stiles in the back seat, enveloping the human in his arms. Stiles leans his head on the alpha’s chest, tempted to just fall asleep right then. He’s almost there, drifting away into unconsciousness when the car abruptly stops.  
“We’re here,” the Sheriff says. Derek quickly extricates himself, as if Stiles’ touch suddenly burns him. Stiles can’t help the brief flash of hurt that crosses his face. Knows Derek sees it by the way the werewolf opens his mouth as if wanting to say something. Then, he closes it just as quickly and climbs out of the cruiser, thanking his father before beginning to shut the door.  
Stiles stops him, holding it open until Derek is forced to look back.  
“We’re still gonna have that talk. Right?”  
After vacillating for a brief second, Derek gives a short nod. Stiles takes his hand off the door and allows Derek to shut it. 

 

His dad lets him stay home from school for about a week which is coincidentally the amount of time it takes for Stiles to gather enough courage to drive to Derek’s apartment. He’s not stupid. He knows that Derek doesn’t want to see him. There’s been no texts. No phone calls. He hasn’t visited.   
Stiles also knows that Derek does have a cellphone. He had been the one to make the werewolf buy it, even if the only one he did text or call was Stiles. So, yeah. Derek could’ve made some effort. Stiles has. He called Derek four times Monday. Had sent numerous texts Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday he had finally gotten the hint and by Friday he was sulking. Today, he’s beyond pissed.   
How dare Derek not tell him something important like them being mates? How dare Derek keep that secret for so long that finally Stiles had had to find it out from Kevin? And now, how dare Derek avoid this talk that he had promised they would have?   
So, that morning, while his dad is at work, he gets dressed before hopping into his jeep and driving across town to where Derek lives.   
He knows Derek is a morning person. He likes to go for a run and howl at the sunrise or something. So when the alpha doesn’t answer after he rings the doorbell, Stiles starts to worry.   
Derek wouldn’t leave town, right? He wouldn’t do that to Stiles. He couldn’t.   
Stiles exchanges ringing the doorbell to banging on the door as loudly as he can instead. He knows he’s probably waking up everyone in the building, but can’t bring himself to care. Derek could be gone.  
He begins calling the alpha’s name, working himself up into a frenzy as his breathing becomes erratic. Stiles can’t believe he’s about to have a panic attack over Derek leaving. “Derek?” he calls softly one last time, stupidly on the verge of tears.  
“Stiles?”  
The human swings around, seeing the alpha standing there with a look of surprise on his face. Derek’s skin is glistening with sweat and he has a bottle of water in one hand, his white T-shirt sticking to his skin.   
Stiles immediately feels foolish. He knew that Derek went on runs, but that reasonable possibility had never occurred to him in his anxious state. Now he’s standing there like an idiot, visibly shaken as Derek stares at him with this look of distant concern that leaves him with a cold pit in his stomach.  
“We were supposed to talk,” Stiles finally says.   
“You should go,” Derek replies softly, jaw clenched. Stiles fists his hands in frustration.  
“No. You promised.”  
“Stiles-”  
“No, Derek. You promised.”  
The alpha nods after a moment and brushes past Stiles, unlocking and opening the door to his apartment. Derek walks over to the couch and sits down. Stiles follows him in after closing the door, choosing to stand rigidly with his arms crossed. Derek sighs.   
“Sit down, Stiles.”  
“You didn’t answer any of my calls or texts.”  
Derek passes a hand over his face. “I didn’t think that that would be… I think you should stay away from me.”  
“Are you fucking kidding me?” He drops his arms in shock.   
“Hasn’t what’s happened last week taught you anything? You’re not safe with me. You’re only going to get hurt. God, Stiles. If Kevin had done what he was planning… if he had done that to you, I would never be able to forgive myself. I can’t even forgive myself now.”  
“Nothing happened. I’m perfectly fine now.”  
“You’re not fine.”  
“You healed me. How, by the way? Because I’m pretty sure that alpha excuse is just that. An excuse. Scott can’t do that and he’s an alpha.”  
Derek doesn’t answer, face ashen.  
“Unless,” Stiles starts, wheels turning. “It’s a mate thing. It is, isn’t it? Werewolves can only heal their mates.”  
The alpha doesn’t contradict him which is as good of an answer as any. Stiles finally relaxes his tense stance and takes the seat right next to Derek. They’re so close that their legs and shoulder are touching.   
“Why are you being like this, Derek? If we really are mates, then we should be together. That’s what it means to be mates.”  
The werewolf shakes his head.  
“You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said. Being together is too dangerous. Letting you be with me is something I can’t do. I’m not willing to risk your life just because… just because of what I want.”  
“What about what I want, Derek?”   
The alpha looks up, expression calculating. “What do you want? Do you want this?” he asks, gesturing between the two of them. “Do you want to have to look over your shoulder every day for the rest of your life? I’m not worth that, Stiles. You don’t deserve that kind of life, and I don’t deserve you.”  
Stiles reaches up, wanting to touch Derek’s face. But, he doesn’t know if Derek would be open to that kind of thing right now. He settles his hand back on his lap.  
“I know exactly what I want,” Stiles answers, looking right into Derek’s eyes. He thinks back on how long he’s been harboring these feelings for Derek and how he thought he would get over it. How he had assumed it was just a stupid crush. But now he knows it’s always been more than that. “How long have you known that we’re mates?” he asks.   
Derek looks away before answering. “You were just a sixteen year old kid back then. There was no way it would’ve worked out.”  
“Would you ever have told me? Would you have ever said anything if last week hadn’t happened?” He feels… betrayed is a good word to use. Derek had made the decision for the both of them and that wasn’t fair.  
“No,” he says it simply and with no hesitation. “I’ve known we were mates since the day I first saw you with Scott outside of the Hale house. But, I knew it never could happen even before everything with Peter went down.” Derek pauses and looks right at Stiles as if trying to make him understand where he’s coming from. “I was… at an unstable part of my life. A mate was more than I could handle then. And now, I have stability, but I still couldn’t tell you because you have your whole life ahead of you and shouldn’t be tied to this town because of me. You could leave this place and never have to worry about the supernatural world again. I thought it would be better for you, so I stayed away at first.”  
“At first?”  
The alpha sighs.   
“It got more difficult when Beacon Hills became a home for every supernatural creature in existence. We had to work together to get through it. And then when things calmed down, we still kept seeing each other and it got harder to stay away from you. I… I should’ve tried harder to stay away from you.”  
“I’m happy that you didn’t,” Stiles says after a brief silence.   
“You shouldn’t be.”  
The human groans in outright annoyance.   
“Why can’t you understand that this isn’t just your decision? I should have a say in this to. Why won’t you let me decide for myself?”  
“Because you always act impulsively! You go with your emotions instead of using your brain.”  
“Maybe you’re just not impulsive enough,” Stiles says.  
And then he does the impulsive thing because apparently he’s good at that. Reaching up with that hand that he had been too scared to use just a few minutes before, he brings his palm up to cup Derek’s face. Before the werewolf can do anything, whether that’s speak or draw away from his touch, Stiles leans forward and brings his lips to meet Derek’s.  
The alpha makes this strangled noise, tensing as if he knows he should resist, but part of him doesn’t want to. And then he seems to relax into it, bringing up one of his hands to cup Stiles’ face in return. It’s Derek who makes the next move, deepens the kiss until both their mouths are open and they’re gasping. And Stiles can feel Derek’s pulse beating rapidly as his hand moves down the werewolf’s neck.   
“Stiles.” The name is a whisper, a hiss, a moan. He says the name like he’s been waiting for this moment for years. Which, yeah he has been. They both have been.  
Stiles doesn’t let him get anything more out, even if that little word has him shivering with pleasure. He brings his other hand up to run his fingers through Derek’s hair, yanking slightly. When that elicits a low groan from the alpha, he does it again, harder. And then Derek is biting his lip, tugging on it gently and it makes Stiles’ stomach do flips.  
This is so much better than his last kiss. If you could even call it that.   
Derek finally pulls away, and Stiles catches a flash of red before it quickly fades after the werewolf blinks.   
“Der?”  
“I can’t, Stiles. I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” he says, leaning away, taking his hand away from Stiles’ face.  
“I want this.” He knows he sounds desperate and whiny but he can’t make himself care.   
“Well, I don’t!” Derek says, shooting up from his seat and staring down at Stiles.   
“You don’t want to be with me?” His voice sounds dead to his own ears which is good really. At least it doesn’t sound shattered and desperate, like he feels. “That’s a lie, Derek. I know you do.” Stiles stands up too so that they’re at eye level. “I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless, Derek. I’ve fought against kanimas, psychotic uncles, alpha packs, druids, and God knows what else. And if I do get hurt, you can heal me. Because we’re mates.”  
“I shouldn’t have to heal you! It shouldn’t be necessary to heal you.”  
Stiles takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Do you remember what I told you in that basement? You’re not alone. You wouldn’t have to be by yourself all the time if you would just let people in.”  
“And what if those people that I do let in end up getting hurt because of me? Then what? What am I supposed to do?”   
“Derek, we could all die tomorrow. I could get in a car crash. I could die in a fire.” When the alpha flinches, Stiles immediately regrets using that example. He brings up his hand, resting it on Derek’s arm in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. Derek doesn’t immediately pull away, so he takes it as a win before continuing. “We could be on the verge of a zombie apocalypse at this very moment. What if we all died right now, Derek? Would you really want it to end this way? Alone? Without us even trying to be together?”   
“Stiles-”  
“Just answer the question.”  
“No,” he says quietly.   
“No, what?”  
“I don’t want to be alone. I… I want to be with you, but-”  
“Stop there. You want to be with me and you don’t want to be alone, so stop fighting. Please stop fighting this. Stop fighting me.”  
Derek swallows and lets out a small, barely discernible whine that makes Stiles heart clench. Then, without warning, Derek is on him, hands everywhere while making these tiny needy noises.  
Stiles suddenly realizes that the alpha had been holding back before because this- this is what Derek had really wanted. Hell yeah, kissing is great, but what the werewolf really wanted to do was claim Stiles as his own.   
Derek nuzzles his head into the human’s throat, softly trailing his lips up and down Stiles’ skin as his hands grip his waist.   
Those intelligible sounds become words. Well, one word really. The teenager doesn’t pay too much attention to it, too caught up in what Derek is doing, one hand running up Derek’s back until it reaches his neck and then his hair.  
Stiles’ breathing gets harsher as the werewolf begins nipping at his throat, surely leaving reddening marks. God, he’ll have to wear turtlenecks for a week. He doesn’t do turtle necks. Maybe scarves.   
Finally, after Derek gives him one last nibble, Stiles takes the time to concentrate on what the alpha is saying.   
“Mine, Stiles. You’re mine. Say it. You’re mine.”  
“I’m yours, Derek,” Stiles manages to gasp out, smiling when Derek lets out a pleased noise. “I’ve always been yours,” he whispers.

 

Epilogue:   
“It’s not going to be that bad. Seriously, Der. How can you remain completely stoic while facing all we’ve been through, but the mere thought of seeing friends has you balking in terror?”  
“They’re not my friends,” the alpha says, giving his mate a small smile. He’s been doing that a lot lately. Smiling. It’s been about three weeks since the whole basement kidnapping thing. It had taken Stiles two of those weeks to finally convince Derek that becoming part of a pack would be good for him.   
“They could be.” He had gotten everyone on board. Kira, Lydia, even Scott after a lot of begging. Scott had never really liked Derek, but he’s kind of stuck with him seeing as now, Stiles and Derek are a packaged deal. So really, it hadn’t taken that much pleading. Four days worth at the most.   
Derek had been the one to put up the most resistance, which is why Stiles is basically dragging him to the park where his friends are waiting. Neutral ground. Even Ms. McCall and his dad had come. They still weren’t completely comfortable with the supernatural world, but Stiles had convinced them. They also knew how much Derek needed this.   
It’s a sunny afternoon when they finally all meet up. The teenagers are talking amongst themselves as are the parents, but all conversation cuts off when they see the couple approaching.   
“Hey guys, thanks for coming.”  
“Hey, Stiles. Derek,” Scott greets them. His best friend eyes the werewolf carefully, but not unkindly. There’s a tense silence before Stiles nudges Derek’s side gently, urging him to speak. Derek clears his throat, looking uncomfortable before he opens his mouth.  
“Hi.”  
“Oh my God.”  
“What? That was a perfectly normal thing to say,” Derek says, one eyebrow quirked as he looks at Stiles.  
“You are impossible.”  
“But, you like me.”  
“I love you,” Stiles automatically blurts without thinking. Then he covers his hand with his mouth in horror. He hadn’t meant to say it. The words had just slipped out.   
Stiles had been trying to take this whole relationship slowly. They were building on it. But, he had just made a big leap.   
“I’m sorry. I didn’t-”  
“I love you, too,” Derek says, cutting the human off. He’s staring at Stiles, heart in his eyes. Derek has beautiful eyes, and they are, if possible, even more gorgeous when they’re full of emotion.   
“You do?” Stiles asks, bringing a hand up to land on the collar of Derek’s jacket as he turns to face the werewolf.   
“Of course I do,” Derek replies, looking surprised that Stiles would think anything different.  
Stiles leans forward to close those last few inches between them. The saying is so cliché. It’s in every romance movie and book in existence. But in that moment, everything and everyone really do fade to the background and all Stiles can focus on is Derek, Derek, Derek. The kiss goes on for so long that his dad finally clears his throat.   
Stiles pulls away, face red. The tips of Derek’s ears also look a little pink if the teenager’s observations are correct.  
“So,” Stiles says, facing the amused expressions surrounding him. “How about this pack thing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long, I was on vacation and just got back yesterday. Hope you enjoyed. Kudos and comments are always appreciated. Notify me if there's any mistakes you see. :)

**Author's Note:**

> One of the original characters attempts to sexually assault Stiles, but is stopped before anything too bad happens. All there is is kissing, really. If you find any mistakes, please let me know. Kudos are appreciated! :)


End file.
